In The Brig
by Kovitlac
Summary: A playful game between Ezio Auditore and the mercenaries of Monteriggioni gets a little hairy.    COMPLETED. Post-AC2/Pre-BH. Please R/R.


Ezio ran through the minute city of Monteriggioni, laughing to himself as the winded guards struggled to keep up. He turned a sharp corner, and the startling brightness of the early morning sun to the east momentarily blinded him. However he recovered quickly, boots temporarily leaving the ground as he dove through the stall of a fabrics vender. Leaving a flood of frustrated curses in his wake, the Assassin quickly lost his pursuers amidst a crowded market street. Always one to make haste relocating to higher ground, Ezio took two steps off a jumble of crates and just barely managed to catch the bottom edge of a low wooden balcony. Using his momentum to swing up, he shimmied himself upward before expertly climbing over the railing. Hearing more than one surprised murmur as a response to his little stunt, Ezio risk a quick glance back over his shoulder; indeed, it seemed a small crowd had gathered and was watching him with a mixture of confusion and awe. Taking no mind, Ezio turned and grasped the edge of the window in front of him, using the available pane to offer a boost up to the second window above it. Ezio did as he had been taught – further using his momentum from each boost to thrust himself skyward, taking the opportunity to grip the next handhold. It was an easy enough concept to grasp – the difficulty lay in its successful execution.

It was awfully tempting to pause for a breather after each lift. Ezio had learned the hard way that doing this only lengthened the time it took to climb, causing the muscles to weaken quicker and cramp, and awarding whoever the target was fleeing from more time to locate and catch up to their intended quarry. On the contrary, Ezio had learned that ignoring the strain for the short amount of time that he had to would lead to less of a strain should he ever be caught. _Ironic… _he thought to himself now, giving a partially amused grin. Not that he had ever been caught, at least not by this particular group of guards. That would ruin the game.

Ezio made it to the rooftop, the sharp black of his Master Assassin robes slipping out from view just as the guards peeled around the corner. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe.

Down below, making their way through the densely packed street corner, three of Monteriggioni's finest searched the upper balconies and roof edges for the sly Assassin. Finding nothing, one of them threw up his hands in frustration.

"Dio lo condanna!" One of them cursed, looking more than peeved. He scowled, tightly gripping the worn hilt of his sword as he looked around the plaza. "Where did he go?" He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and stepped back, letting Il Comandante step forward. The tall man, dressed in gleaming Tuscan armor from head to toe, gave only the smallest of frowns as his eyes trailed over the crowded plaza, then up to the balconies.

"He's here. Take your time." He nodded to the man on his right, who raised his heavy sword and began to search the street. Il Comandante narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the balconies. He had to be on the roofs… the Commander knew that, when searching for protection, that was where the Assassin would flee to. His eyes rested on a wooden ladder reaching from the ground to the low roof of a market vender's hut.

"Go. Climb that ladder." He ordered the lieutenant. "Search for the Assassin up there."

Less than one block behind them Ezio couldn't help but grin, his eyes on Il Comandante's armored back. To deduce that Ezio was running along the rooftops was a wise choice – that was to say, if Ezio had actually been where his chasers believed he was. An Assassin could ill-afford to become a creature of habit, and as his uncle often liked to say, deception was indeed the better part of valor. And so instead of remaining on the rooftops and allowing the guards to gain a fix on him, Ezio had decided to loop around and return to the streets. The guards certainly would not be expecting it, and Ezio would have a chance not only to catch his breath, but to further evade capture. He began to relax, staying back far enough behind the armored trio so that he could blend back into the crowd in an instant, should the need strike him.

"I bet you can't catch me!" Rang a young girl's voice through the market clatter. The small child, no more than five years of age, then emitted a sharp squeal and dove between her father's legs, followed very quickly by a slightly older boy. The two broke into excited giggles, venturing further from their distracted parents.

Nearby, a pottery vender had picked up a pile of his wares and was in the process of carrying them across the street to where a cluster of interested buyers was waiting. He strained under the heavy load, muttering curses as he began his trip across the busy street, essentially blinded by the objects he carried.

The children serpentined back and forth, willfully ignoring shouts from their parents to stay nearby. All at once, the little girl noticed a heavy shadow looming over her. She turned, brown eyes wide, her forthcoming shriek lost within the surrounding cacophony. Her brother gave a startled shout, too late to warn the man who was seconds from crashing into his little sister.

The girl tightly closed her eyes. All at once she felt a sharp jerk, a powerful thrust to her midsection, and her feet leaving the ground. Her small body flew to the side just as the man carrying the heavy clay pots collided with a decidedly larger body.

Ezio gave a sharp grunt of pain, feeling the man's foot connect with his side. Instantly the man came down, giving a loud cry of surprise as his knee rammed into the Assassin's ribs. Then came the loud crashes – clay pots fell from the vender's arms, shattering into jagged-edged pieces all around Ezio. The Assassin curled himself up into a fetal position, hands automatically moving to cover his head and neck to the best of his ability.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to have gone. Ezio had spotted the young girl just seconds before she was to be trampled by the pottery vender. Having no time to warn the child, Ezio reacted instead by leaping, grabbing onto the underside of a dangling flower basket, and swinging his feet right at the girl. They hit her straight on. Ezio's grasp on the flower basket faltered and then slipped away. And while his plan certainly had not included getting trampled by a heavy-set man carrying an even heavier load, Ezio was thankful it was him, and not the young child, getting tripped over.

The sudden crashes along with the angry howls of pain from the limping pottery vender and the screams from startled children caught the attention of Il Comandante and his men. Before Ezio could haul himself back up, two rough hands grabbed him by the front and helped him do it.

"Hey! You can't just – Ezio?" The guard blinked, seemingly confused. "What's going on?"

Ezio scowled, holding onto an aching arm. "Niente." He grumbled. _This was just wonderful…_

The guard looked the Assassin up and down before calling over his shoulder to his commander. "Comandante! We've captured il Assassino!" He returned his gaze to Ezio, unable to help but grin as he held onto the assassin's wrist. The commander trotted over, looking Ezio over. Noting he wasn't really hurt, Signore Alfeo gave a low chuckle and a respectful tilt of his head.

"Sono spiacente. My humble apologies, Signore Ezio. But you know the rules. It's the brig for you now."

Ezio had figured the guards wouldn't go too easy on him. The rules of the game were painfully simple – an ounce of wet paint delivered to the back via a rather handy contraption designed by Leonardo resulted in one 'dead' guard. Of course the guard in question often times wouldn't notice his own apparent death until it was pointed out ever so cheerfully by another guard or passerby. After weeks of this, the guards of Monteriggioni swore to get even. They declared that the Assassin would be apprehended on sight, and confined to the town's brig.

Ezio's uncle Mario found the game they share to be amusing, as well as beneficial to both sides. Ezio was able to practice his skills in the art of evasion and stealth, while Mario's guards were kept on their toes throughout the long summer days.

Now it seemed that Ezio would be spending this particular summer day in a cage. He groaned as Il Comandante led him to the front of the town, Ezio's wrists bound loosely behind him. There stood what could be described as a fully-enclosed pen, usually only used to hold nothing worse than the occasional loud drunkard, although years ago it used to cage allies of de Pazzi. "Signore Alfeo," Ezio decided to try his luck pleading to the commander. "Please. A cage is not necessary."

The lower-ranked guards chuckled, clearly having fun with their little win. Alfeo grunted in what could have been the man's best attempt to muster up any sympathy. "You know the rules, Assassin." He spoke in a low growl, but his eyes betrayed the warmth and respect he felt towards his friend. "You've murdered your last victim."

Resigned to his fate, Ezio sighed as the guards manhandled him into the cell, quickly untying his wrists before backing out and closing the gate shut behind them. He rested his freed hands on the thin metal bars in front of him, watching as the gate was firmly locked.

The corner of Il Comandante's mouth twitched in a slight smile. "You will be free by nightfall."

"Leonardo will be by before then." Ezio protested. His eccentric friend enjoyed spending the occasional evening in the markets, gathering materials to use for his various experiments and contraptions. Ezio knew for a fact that the inventor would be spending this particular evening outdoors – in fact, Ezio had been planning on meeting up with him.

Signore Alfeo shrugged. "If Messer Mario decides to let you out before then-"

"Zio Mario will be too busy avere una buona risata - having a grand laugh at my expense." Ezio groaned, weakly clutching the bars. Signore Alfeo chuckled.

"You are probably right, Ezio." He consented. He nodded to his men, who stood at attention, and led them off back into the marketplace. Ezio sighed again and slumped back against the rear end of the cell. It was going to be a terribly long afternoon.

Ezio attracted quite a few curious glances – as well as several amused smiles - throughout the course of the afternoon. It didn't seem to help that everyone in Monteriggioni knew of the charismatic young Assassin; the nephew of the man who kept their city in order and protected from invaders and barbarians from up north. A few of them also knew of Ezio's background – of his upbringing in Firenze (many Monteriggionians forgave him for that one), and of the spiteful murder of his family by de Pazzi.

The occasional group of young children drew near, and Ezio kept himself entertained by keeping his back to the kids, before suddenly approaching them and causing the entire group to scatter, shrieking as they did. But even this minor, albeit entertaining, victory did little to raise Ezio's spirits.

*

Leonardo di Vinci wandered the streets of the bustling marketplace, wondering where on earth his friend be hiding. It wasn't like him to be half an hour late. And it certainly wasn't like him to take him up on his offer, than abandon him. But if anyone knew, it would be Alfeo, Il Commandante della Guardia. He and Ezio had been trusted friends ever since Ezio first arrived in Monteriggioni that fateful day.

After searching for several minutes, Leonardo located what seemed to be two of Alfeo's trusted lieutenants, enjoying a brief evening lull. He pushed and weedled his way through the crowd, burdened with several new canvasses and an armload of paints. He expressed his most heartfelt apologies to the crowd, many of whom had uttered their annoyance at being jostled. Leonardo made his way to the guards, stopping in front of them and setting down his heavy load.

"Signors. I was hoping you could help me locate someone…" The two men looked at him, then down at the painter's supplies resting at his feet.

"Si. Che è il problema?"

"Well you see, my friend Ezio was supposed to have met me here nearly an hour ago." Leonardo rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "As you can readily see, he is not here, and I have been-" He stopped, startled, as the guards began to chuckle, then break out into entire fits of laughter.

"-greatly concerned." Leonardo blinked. To say this was not what he had been expecting would be quite the understatement. One of the guards wiped his eyes, palm pressed against his gut.

"Oh, do not worry, Leonardo." He said, grinning. "In fact, you could say that he is quite safe where he is at." The two exchanged glances, seemingly in the midst of enjoying their own little private joke.

"Sono spiacente. But I do not understand…" Leonardo insisted. Both guards managed to calm down enough to paste an expression of utter seriousness on their now-reddened faces.

"I would check the brig if I were you."

"What happened?" The painter's eyes grew wide.

"Ask Ezio." The speaking guard shifted his feet. "Do not worry yourself, amico mio. He is not harmed." Leonardo nodded slowly, still looking unsure. The guard gave another smile, this one almost coy in nature.

"But…do go see him."

"Ezio?" Leonardo's tone was incredulous as he spotted his friend, sitting with his back pressed against the front side of the cell. The Assassin had looked bored out of his mind, but he jerked to his feet as he heard his friend's familiar voice.

"Leonardo!"

"Dio mio! Tell me what happened!" Leonardo crossed the path that ran in front of the cell, dropping his new purchases to the ground. Ezio rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish.

"I…guess you could say that I got into a little bit of trouble…" Leonardo arched a brow.

"I can see that."

"It's a long story." Leonardo took hold of the bars in front of Ezio, bringing his face so close that he could feel the warmth from the sun radiating off the cast bronze on his forehead.

"I have time."

"So Signore Alfeo finally won a round." Leonardo chuckled, tilting his head back against the increasingly warm bars. He felt Ezio shifted behind him as they sat back to back on the grass. The Assassin frowned.

"I was distracted."

"By?"

"Saving a child from certain death." He rudely spat. Leonardo only shrugged, glancing at the length of fine parchment in his lap. He fingered the chunk of graphite in his left hand, biting down on his lip as he thought.

"I could go fetch your uncle."

"Zio Mario won't bother. And I'd sooner not have him here to laugh at me, too."

The artist frowned at the parchment, distracted from the conversation. "No one is laughing at you."

"They all are." Ezio protested. He knew he was behaving like a spoiled child. But it wasn't as though being locked in a cage for the better part of the afternoon ever brought out the best in anyone. Leonardo stiffened a sigh – after all these years, he knew better then to try and point out the obvious when Ezio was in a poor mood.

"I offered to ask Signore Mario-"

"It won't do any good."

"How do you know?" Leonardo shifted, setting his work to the side before climbing to his feet. He stretched, surveying the caged and frustrated Assassin. 

Ezio heard his movement, but stayed solidly in place. "Where are you going?"

"A walk. You aren't exactly the best of company right now, amico mio." Ezio shrugged, absently tugging at the grass, feeling the short, thin blades between his fingers. Leonardo quickly dusted himself off before turning on his heel and heading back toward the villa. He had a favor to ask of someone.

"Leonardo!" Mario Auditore grinned broadly at the eccentric inventor, moving in for a powerful bear hug. Leonardo flushed, chuckling wearily.

"Ah. Signore Mario. Just the man I was looking for."

"You've found me." He leaned back against his desk, which was stockpiled with papers concerning the financials and other such business of the small Tuscan town. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "To be honest, I could use a break. Although if you are looking for Ezio, I'm afraid I have not seen him since this morning."

"I'm actually here to talk about that."

"About Ezio?" Mario paused, catching the concerned look in Leonardo's eyes. "Did something happen to him?" Leonardo quickly told Mario the tale Ezio had relayed to him, up to the point where Ezio had found himself being escorted to the town brig and locked firmly inside. Mario looked confused, than grinned, than eventually broke out into heavy laughter.

"Oh il mio Dio! I know of their game. I just never imagined Ezio would actually get himself caught!" He then sighed and shook his head. Still chuckling, he lowered himself back into his seat.

"What are you going to do about it?" Mario shrugged.

"Alfeo seems to have everything under control."

"But it was an accident." Mario fixed Leonardo with a calm even look.

"Getting caught is always an accident."

"I meant about the pottery."

"Let's just say I highly doubt the potter will press charges."

"You're not listening to me." Mario gave a slight tilt of his head, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"Come to your point, Leonardo."

"I take it you're not planning to help him."

"My nephew was caught and 'imprisoned'. As I understand it, those are the rules of the game." He noted Leonardo's scowl and leaned forward, speaking lowly. "Of course he saved the life of a child tonight. And he will be commended for his actions. But you must understand one thing, Leonardo. In Ezio's line of work, there is no room for such 'accidents'. If he is ever caught, he will most likely be killed outright. If he is imprisoned, it will be only to await a far worse fate."

Leonardo shifted his feet, looking down at his boots. What the former Assassin said actually made sense. "I…don't know why I didn't think of that." He admitted weakly. Mario chuckled, leaning back once more.

"Che? Because you think too hard, Leonardo." Mario returned his attention to his work, smoothing out the thick parchment on the table. "Go inform my nephew that if he can leap off a three-hundred foot tower, he can certainly survive another hour or so in a cell."

Leonardo had only been gone a half hour or so, but by the time he returned, Ezio was in the midst of a power snooze. The artist noted the general bare spot in the grass surrounding the assassin and gave a small smile, sitting back down again. He pulled the parchment back into his lap, once more picking up the chunk of graphite he'd been using. It was several long minutes before Ezio seemed to wake up, wondering where he was for a moment before giving a groan of realization.

"Did you sleep well?"

He snorted. "If you could call it that." Ezio finally turned around, slipping onto his knees as he grasped the narrow bars between the two. "What did my uncle say?"

"Whoever said I sought your uncle?" Ezio scowled, narrowing his eyes.

"Okay okay." Leonardo shifted in position, tilting the sheet of parchment away from prying eyes. "He said that you lost the game."

"And?"

"And that if you can dive off a three-hundred foot tower, you-"

"So he's not coming to let me out."

Leonardo shrugged, eyes on the parchment. "I am afraid not."

Ezio allowed himself to slump once again. They sat in silence a moment longer before Leonardo gave a sudden chuckle. Ezio's temper, already having long since been frayed far beyond tolerable limits, flared up.

"Exactly what is so damned amusing?" He hissed, turning once more to face the painter – only to find a completed sketch of himself, drawn in graphite on a piece of tan loose leaf parchment, sitting back against the trunk of a tall oak tree. Ezio's temper dissipated as quickly as it had heated up, and he found himself grinning as he carefully took hold of the parchment through the bars.

"Leonardo! But… why?..." Leonardo gave something of a pleased smile.

"You never could sit still long enough for me to sketch you!"


End file.
